5 guardsmen and an Ogryn
by BIBOTOT
Summary: Six of them (Ogryn included) come from six different regiments: Cadian, Mordian, Krieg, Catachan, Tanith and Savlar Chem Dogs. Trapped behind enemy lines, they must use their different skills and combat tactics to survive, let alone changing the course of the entire war. Will they succeed, or will they die forgotten? (Completed)
1. Chapter 1

Dawn was approaching on the world of Waxion. The horizon glistened with sickly crimson light, as though radiating from a sea of blood.

Valia did not want to die. She was only seventeen old while average lifespan of a human being, according to what she had read, was ninety. It was unfair, so unfair. Then she realized: this was war, nothing was fair.

Born of the war-torn planet Cadia, Valia had no memory of her parents, but the report mentioned that they were heroically killed fighting the daemonic forces of Chaos. For all she knew, they might have been shot by commissars for running away. She thought about that because she felt it in the blood: the urge to run away from whatever horror the universe threw at. Whatever reason, she became an orphan at the age of five. At the age of sixteen, she was given too options: she could remain in the orphanage where the food stank and people bullied her to get her stinky food or she could join the army where the food did not stink too badly and the people bullying her would risk standing at the wrong side of a firing line. At that point, she naively picked the latter.

Big mistake! And now she regretted it more than ever.

During her short service, she was forced to fight against the Orks on Daiji V, an experience both good and bad. Good in that she made a lot of friends in the journey, some of them making really funny jokes. Bad in that all of her friends got mercilessly hacked to pieces by the Greenskins.

And just when Valia thought it was over, the last of the aliens on Daiji V purged, she was immediately sent to the next planet, Waxion, which also happened to be filled with hostiles. This time, though, her enemy was the Forces of Chaos.

Adding to her horror, she was alone in the city, her entire squad cut down in an earlier ambush. She only survived because she knew when to run. Perhaps it did run in the blood after all.

Valia moved through the ruins sluggishly. Her boots were too large for her feet, and her socks were ridden with holes. Unfortunately, being second-priority meant everything she had was standard issue for the bulk of the army which, unsurprisingly, consist of men who were not only bigger but also more resilient that her. As much as she wanted to take those off, walking barefooted on a terrain filled with glass and Emperor-knows-what wasn't such a good idea.

As Valia made it through the rubble, she heard rasping voices nearby. Turning around she saw two figures heading towards, all dressed in khaki displaying, their bodies tattooed with twisted images that unsettled the mind. They had already spotted her, so hiding now would be pointless.

Valia switched herself to firing position, as per training, shouldered her lasgun and pulled the trigger. The first two shots went wide. The cultists did not bother lowering their heads. The third shot slammed home, punching one off his feet. The other Chaos human was upon her, jagged knife bearing, when Valia shot him in the eye.

More silhouettes were coming. They neither looked nor sounded happy. Deciding the best course of action would be to retreat, Valia straightened up and sprinted from her position. The stupid standard issue boots were a really annoyance, and she could not take two steps without almost losing her balance. At length, she fell down. A sharp pain running through her indicated her ankle was strayed. She was sitting duck now.

Not going down without a fight, Valia opened fire on full auto, killing one, two, three more cultists who had only T-shirt to protect themselves. A fourth, the last of them, got her and managed to pin her down by the face. The Chaos human removed Valia's helmet, revealing her dirty wheat-blond hair.

"You look nice sister," he said, licking his lips with an unnaturally long tongue. If his pinkish skin did not spilled the beans, than the icon on his shoulder did: the man was a follower of Slaanesh, the God of Pleasure. "Prettier than the others. We are going to have some fun, aren't we? Now, where to I start?"

Valia screamed and the cultist relished in that. She twitched and struggled, but the man was stronger. It took great strength to be on the same bed with a daemonette. Now Valia wanted to die badly. Whatever fate awaited her at the hand of his sadistic maniac was bound to be worse. The cultist ran his hand at the part between her legs. The sensation was overwhelming, pain, embarrassment, despair and dark ecstasy altogether. Valia sweated heavily as he did so, nearly pissing herself for the first time in five years.

Then, as if a miracle had happened, it stopped. Valia finally caught her breath; anymore of that and she would bite her tongue to death. As she came to sense, she saw that the miracle had indeed happened after all. The cultist fell dead, his face staring at the sky even though he was prone, and Valia found herself looking at a giant. He was two and a half meters tall, his body-build and muscularly features uncannily resembling the Greenskins she faced on Daiji V. He wore sleeveless shirt rather than flak armor and had teeth taken from Orks and Tyranids alike around his neck. Valia saw a vicious-looking knife on his back and a melt-pistol at the side.

A soldier from Catachan.

"You are OK, girl?" he asked caringly. The man had the accent of someone who did not speak Low Gothic often.

"I think I am fine," replied Valia. "Would have been a lot worse if you hadn't shown up. I believe I owe you my thanks, though don't expect me to repay that. I'm not good at keeping promises."

A las shot zipped through the air, heralding the arrival of yet more cultists of Chaos. Valia attempted to get up but failed miserably, her broken ankles failing to respond just when she needed most. Before she realized what occurred next, the Catachan had carried her on his shoulder as a man would carry an ammo box. Valia had no time to protest as the Catachan sped up like a bull and went straight into the valley under heavy fire.

Cultists surrounded them. With one free hand, the Catachan grabbed his knife in deft movements. He chopped off three heads with a single swipe. Valia could not help but watch as her comrade fought to defend them both. She still had her lasgun, but it was impossible to fire from where she was, on the shoulder of someone else. Still more cultists appeared, replenishing their losses faster than an Ork could eat his Squig. There were so many of them. Despite the death world fighter's inhuman prowess, he was in no position to win at this rate.

The booming noise of an auto cannon filled the air. Explosive projectiles shredded the cultists like papers and cut them down in droves. Valia and the Catachan turned towards the direction where fire was coming from, the second floor of a relatively intact building that used to be the bakery. The sight of allied personnel in the area rekindled their hope. The Chaos humans clearly had had enough and were fleeing for their lives from the torrent of fire, leaving a score laid dead in their wake.

Valia dared think they would be safe at last when a Chaos Spawn barred in their way. The creature was manifestation of the Warp, its body covered in a thick layer of smudge. It had three outstretched arms, five legs, three tails, so many eyes, and no symmetry. The Catachan discarded his knife and reached for his melta-pistol. He fired before the monstrosity could charge. The Spawn reeled back, squirming in pain and half of its face all but gone. However, the melta-pistol required time to recharge, and the Chaos Spawn recovered much quicker than that. It pounced, and the jungle fighter had only his arm to protect himself. Valia was about to screech when long-las shot exploded its shoulder and sent the creature off balance. Capitalizing the distraction, the Catachan fired his melta weapon again. This time, the abomination shuddered and died.

"Looks like we have a good marksman on our side," said the Catachan.

"Praise the Emperor," Valia added.

* * *

The two finally made it to the building where their allies were. Once they were in, the Catachan put Valia's on a coach and tended to her feet as meticulously as a father would. Her bare feet emitted a stench from the old socks but he ignored that. Four men greeted them.

"It's good to see more of our men have survived the enemy onslaught," said the first. He was dressed in refined uniform, colorful if not gaudy. Valia could not resist her jealousy seeing someone whose uniform actually fit, tailor-made specifically for individual soldier going to war. The Pickelhelm on top of his head was also well-crafted. He smelled nice, which added to the problem. You don't get to have any of that being a guardsman. You were supposed to be the cheap meat that fed into the Imperium's war machine.

"Always glad to fight alongside good men and women of the Imperial Guards," he went on. "I am Lieutenant Luggana Leitdorf of the 11th Mordian Iron Guard, the "Silver Swan", by the way."

The Mordian Iron Guards were out of action for as long as half a century, spending that time to reconsolidate and reorganizing themselves rather than fighting against the Emperor's foe. They came out from that period greatly reduced in strength, but offering superior troops than previously. A brief look may give them the impression of effigy, but the Mordian soldiers were second to none in combat and many a foe had paid the ultimate price for underestimating their competence.

"Thanks for the rescue," said the Catachan. "Well done, lads. The name here is Randy Nebular, but for Throne's sake, just call me Randy. I can't handle too much detail. I am a Master Sergeant."

"I am trooper Valia of the 256th Cadian Shock Troops," Valia chimed in. "Nice to meet you all."

"Grenadier R40592 at your service," introduced the second man grimly. Unlike the Mordian officer, he wore plain grey uniform with gasmask. He had magazine pelts hanging on his chest, so Valia guessed he was the heavy weapon operator. "Death Korp of Krieg. 26th Infantry Regiment. There is no greater honor than to die in the Emperor's name."

Valia had decent respect for the guardsmen from the Death Korp of Krieg. They were renowned throughout the Imperium for their stubbornness in the face of insurmountable odds, never retreat and never look back.

"Trooper Mkeller," said the third. Valia presumed he was the sniper earlier. Being outside squad structure and usually operating alone, these lone wolves developed a personality that was both anti-social and alienating. "3rd Tanith, or New Tanith as some like to call it."

The Tanith earned much of their name in the Sabbat World Crusade as masters of scout, marksmanship and infiltration. Valia was happy to have one of them here with her.

The final person in the room was an Ogryn, a hulking creature that towered even the Catachan. He gave everyone a dumb look, jumping his gaze sporadically from one to another.

"Come on now," encouraged Leitdorf. "Don't be shy. Tell us who you are and which division you came from."

"With respect, Herr Leitdorf," said R40592. "But I don't think he possesses the ability to speak Low Gothic anymore. Just look at him, he is…"

Before he could finish, the Ogryn whooped loudly. "Me iz Bragg Gutsman. Savlar Chem Dogz. Me iz 'ere teh smash those bad Chaos boyz to bits. Fer da Emprah!"

"Not too bad, isn't he?" asked Leitdorf. He sat down on a chair at the middle of them and clasped his hands together. "Now. It seems we have known who we are fighting alongside. If anyone does not already know in advance who we are fighting against, I will gladly put a las shot through his head. Since I am the highest ranking person right here and right now, does anybody here object to my leadership."

No body answered.

"Good luck, Lieutenant," said the Tanith mockingly. "Please go ahead and show us the way to glorious victory."

"I understand how you feel, trooper," said Leitdorf evenly. He didn't seem to think it was a joke. Given he was from Mordia, that was highly the case. "But glorious victory can wait. Right now, our goal is survival. The enemy has numbers and we don't. Until reinforcement arrive, we are on our own. I want this parameter secured and…"

Valia did not hear the rest of his blabbering. She was quick to sleep. The day had been long and weary, whilst she was still young. The others let her be.

With more battles to come, Valia wondered how further she could survive in this hellish reality. For the very least, she would not have to tolerate these horrendous boots for long.

* * *

**A/N: My first attempt at Imperial Guards. Tell me what you think. Hope you enjoy it. **


	2. Chapter 2

Valia groggily opened her eyes in the dead of night, still lying on the couch in the living room where Randy had put her. Her bare feet were tickled by the cold wind and her toes had become so stiff they resisted any effort she made to move them. On the bright side, her ankle wasn't hurting anymore, thanks to what the Catachan did earlier. With a heavy sigh, Valia picked up her stinky old socks nearby and reluctantly put them on. She hated them with a passion, but unfortunately for her, passion could not burn in this freezing weather.

Looking around, Valia saw the building had retained much of its elegance design and layout despite the war, most likely because the invaders were worshippers of Slaanesh and deemed this place worthy in their image. The walls were lined with oil paintings of magnificent scenery Valia was certain could not be found anywhere on Cadia, for 14 Black Crusades had put a permanent end to that. The furniture, including the couch she was on, were of fine material and texture, excellently woven unlike any clothes she had got her hands on all her life. There was also a chandelier hanging on the ceiling, though it was dark and Valia could hardly discern how it looked like.

Something was not right, Valia had a rude awakening. Where is everyone?

The room was empty, devoid of any human presence apart from her own. Valia searched for any indication that her comrades had been here, a weapon, an ammo box, cigarette litter, anything. To her surprise and horror, she found nothing, as though they had never been there and she had just accidently come across this forsaken place. The door to the main hall of the building was cracking eerily, swinging to and fro under the strong wind.

Valia got to her feet, glad that she could walk again. Making a mental note to herself to thank Randy later, she walked to the door and opened in once and for all. The next room was dull and stark. Valia's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of a figure standing at the corner, face hidden in the shadow. The Cadian girl wished she had a lasgun right now, for a Guard of the Imperium was as good as pig ready for slaughter without his/her weapon. Grabbing a candle base for some reassurance no matter how useless it was plus the fact it was made of gold and she hated breaking expensive items (the one time she screwed up the Commissar's fake silver medal, she got flogged badly), Valia advanced towards the figure cautiously.

It was patently a human, and as Valia got nearer to it, she saw the Cadian Imperial Guard flak armor on it. Valia was hoping to meet up with another lost comrade when the figure turned to face her. What she saw shocked her so much her body was completely taken by paralysis and the candle base dropped from her numb hands. It was Evalan, from the same regiment as Valia was. She could not possibly be here, not in a million lifetimes, because…

"You are dead," stammered Valia without much thinking. Evalan was Valia's best friend since joining the Guards. The two were in the same squad, fighting together, sharing lunch, chatting about things the Emperor would be embarrassed if He could hear. Evalan was killed by the Orks on Daiji V, an axe chopping off half of her neck and leaving her bleeding to death without any cure. The blow was meant for Valia, thanks to her stupidity when she popped out her head from a dug hole. The reason she survived was because Evalan was conveniently there and Valia took her chance and exploited her friend. Evalan was bad at cooking meat, but she sure made a good meat shield right there.

"Yes I am," Evalan replied smiling sinisterly. She cringed her head, revealing the wound on her neck and the blood that just kept pouring out as though they had come from Khaine's hands themselves. "And you killed me."

Overtaken by terror, Valia stepped back. This was not supposed to be. Dead people don't come back to life.

"I…I had no other choice…I was…." Valia began. Not letting her friend explain herself, the ghost of Evalan pounced forward and pinned Valia down, both hands choking on her throat. Valia struggled, but her body was just melting from some ethereal power.

"I died because of you, bitch!" Evalan screeched madly like a banshee. "I died because you did not give me a choice which I fucking deserve. Now you are going to the Warp with me. No Emperor will protect sinners of your kind."

"Noooooo!" Valia screamed as loud as her lung could without exploding.

The next thing she knew, she was on the couch, in the living room, still alive, still barefooted but her feet weren't cold anymore because a blanket had been kindly put on her. Everything had been but a nightmare, and just like dreams, all nightmares must come to an end.

"You are not sleeping well?" asked Leitdorf. Valia gazed around and saw all her comrades were in the same room, slumbering soundly. Gutsman the Ogryn was snoring like a truck's engine. He was in the far corner, everyone else a good distance from him. For some reasons, people from Mordia did not sleep at night. The fixated position of their planet with the sun making one half covered in molten lava and the other in eternal darkness might have something to do with that.

"Yeah," Valia nodded.

"Rest well, you are going to need it," the Mordian said, patting on Valia's head which made her blushed. "Enjoy while you can. We are deep in enemy territory and they are coming in force, there is no telling if we can have a quiet night like this again."

Without further word, the Cadian girl went back to sleep, wondering if Evalan would haunt her dreams again.

* * *

The next day started with a bang. A very big bang, in fact: so big, the apartment three blocks away collapsed within seconds. Everyone was shot up, startled. The Ogryn was still sucking him thump and murmuring about lollipop, unsurprisingly.

The artillery bombardment had begun. The city was large and without any effective spotters, the Imperium were firing blind and would be only hitting cockroaches with howitzers. If anything, they might give the Chaos lunatics a headache which might slower their taking control of the city, though the lack of any unit on the defense would made sure that would be a very rare occurrence.

Alastor, or Grenadier R40592, suggested fortifying the building and turning it into a stronghold where the group could hold up the enemy until reinforcement arrived. He had adopted the name Alastor from Leitdorf, a natural development in their relationship. Besides, Grenadier R40952 sounded terrible and no one could speak that with a straight face, all except the Krieg of course, and the Ogryn who pronounced it Grenadia Argh-40442 (he could only count up to 4). After some debates which Valia, being a lowly trooper, played no part of they had decided against the proposal. As much as this house seemed likely to hold up large number of enemies with the right type of decoration, especially those nasty Catachan booby traps like the ones used against the Tyranids, there was much risk that the Chaos force had Space Marines with them. Reports mentioned the sightings of the Flawless Host, a traitor warband almost decimated by Kharn the Betrayal a few years back, on several battlefields. Chances were, without anything else to fight in the city, they would definitely be drawn to the static defense.

Having packed all that they needed, including some dry food from the kitchen shelves, and gone to the bathroom except the Ogryn who was sent to a more discrete place, they moved out. Gutsman carried Alastor's autocannon with six belts of ammo as effortlessly as a man lifting his arm. The M42 Horophane Pattern proved much less unwieldy compared to previous models and could be managed by a single person, thus allowing greater speed and flexibility. Valia felt a bit jealous seeing everyone else was using new shiny kits while she was stuck with a lasgun that had been around for probably a few millennia (at least the crappy model design had not changed).

The destination was out of this city which was falling rapidly to the hand of Chaos. Mkeller had a map and the fastest escape route was through Barkellay Street which would lead directly to the highway.

"If luck is on our side, we can get our asses to the Red Ridge Highway before sunset," said the Tanith.

"And if it is not?" asked Randy.

Mkeller shrugged. "Then we are feth."

"What does _feth_ mean?" asked Valia, perplexed.

"I am sure that _feth_ is a slang term originate from Tanith," said Alastor. "It's meaning, well, although I cannot put my finger on it, it should be something bad, something awful."

"You really don't need to know a lot about the mystic language of the wood-loving people," said Randy to Valia, chuckling. The Catachan had quite a sense of humor, compared to the stiffness of the others. His presence made Valia feel more reassuring. Her foot was feeling much better now thanks to him, though the oversized boots still proved to be a nuisance.

The six Imperial Guards moved their way through mounts of debris and wreckages, occasionally coming across cadavers that had been unceremoniously disposed by rats and insects. Given the nefarious nature of the enemy, it was best that they be so, the corpses carrying nothing out of the ordinary, otherwise the Inquisition might get fused up about. The group stopped, not because they had reached where they wanted, far from it, but because there was a massive wall in front of them.

Literally, a massive wall made from material of the Warp had surrounded the whole city. How the Chaos force had constructed it overnight was unbelievable, even by their fickle standard.

"What in the name of God Emperor is this?" Leitdorf gapped.

"This is the doing of sorcery, no doubt," said Randy. "They are setting up some sort of barrier, probably to protect themselves from out attack, well, our comrades' attack. Looks like we are _feth_ after all."

"What's the plan now?" asked Alastor. "I told you we should have barricaded ourselves in that building. At least we would last longer and inflict more losses on them." Valia felt her heart racing. If there was going to be last stand, she would not tolerate. She did not want to die, and more than that, she did not want to die with the knowledge she would inevitably so. Troops sent to their death in hundreds had one thing last standers did not have – the slim hope of beating the odds and surviving yet another day, only to repeat the process on the next.

"Damn it," Leitdorf groaned. "There has to be another way. That they have sorcery on their side is more reason for us to get…." He was cut off by a las round whizzing through the air between him and Mkeller.

"Sharpshooter, down!" Randy cried. Instinctively, the five Guards took cover while the Ogryn just stood out in the open dumbly. Another shot, more accurate than the first, scored a hit on his chest and put a hole on his shirt. The giant abhuman did not even feel that, though he cringed his nose at the smoke coming from burned crude fabric.

Mkeller popped out his long-las, took aim and fired. The enemy sniper was sixty meters away, hidden and camouflaged in a five-level apartment. Hit, the headless Chaos soldier fell out of the window. All these motions happened in three heartbeats. Valia was astonished at the Tanith's marksmen skill. If only there were more like that on Cadia, than fatality from friendly-fire would be reduced significantly.

"More are coming," said Leitdorf as other groups of cultists rushed from all direction. There were as many as thirty of them dressed in garnish costumes like a parody, some holding lasguns confiscated from dead Guards and Khornate Warrior while others brandishing makeshift weapons ranging from baseball bat with nails to banana. "Alastor, set up and mow them down. Gutsman,…just do whatever your fine necessary to stay alive. Let's show these heretics the wrath of the Emperor, men."

"By the Emperor's will it shall be done," replied Alastor, placing the heavy weapon on a tripod.

"Me follow orda!" the Ogryn shouted before charging headlong into the largest concentration of cultists. The massive brute scattered all around him, stamping mercilessly with his size 20 feet on those unfortunate enough not to get out of the way in time.

Valia and Mkeller fired their las weapon, knocking a few heretics off their feet. The autocannon opened up on the enemy and slaughtered them in droves. Still the Chaos lunatics came, heedless of their life and that of their comrades. Event those wounded on the ground were crawling while laughing in pained ecstasy. Leitdorf shot one in the face and sliced the cord of the second with his power sword. Randy melted a heretic with his melta pistol. Another came at him, swinging his banana. The Catachan blocked it with his mouth, biting a huge chunk of the fruit including the peel and swallowed it whole. Like an imbecile, the cultist looked at what had become of his weapon, a second before two large hands grasped his head and twisted it 180 degree with the ease of spinning a top.

The wave of Chaos fanatics did not seem to stop. No matter how many were cut down, more took their place. For their credits, the Imperials held their ground valiantly and showed no sign of giving in either. This was exactly what they were born and trained for. When the time came, not a single one of them wanted to be found wanting. Even Valia would play to its tune till the very end, her spirit galvanized by the uplifting aura from her comrades.

It was a very good day to die.

"For old Tanith! For Verghast! And for the fury of Belladon!"

"In the name of beloved Fatherland Mordia!"

"Catachan approves this one!"

"Eternal glory to Cadia!"

"In life, war. In death, peace. In life, shame. In death, atonement."

"WAAAAARGH!"

* * *

Author's note: I hope that you will know which warcry belongs to whom. I try out something new about the Guards here, not only using mulitiple regiments rather than one, but also develop a main character who is a coward, not a heroic coward like Ciaphas Cain, just an ordinary girl who did not want to die horribly in the grimdark future.


	3. Chapter 3

Alone, in an abandoned warehouse, Valia began to cry.

She was a failure, a complete washout. Failed as an Imperial Guard, failed as a comrade, and worst of all, failed as a servant of the Emperor. Her selfish, shameful actions would be a stain on the proud banner of Cadia for years to come, if they ever came to light, of course. Given she was a mere Guardswoman, lowest of rank and remembered by no one, and there was the fact her superiors would save their faces as all cost, it was likely the case that it never would.

Valia remembered the battle earlier. The fighting was hard. At first, driven by the bravado of her companions, Valia thought they could win it. Unfortunately, ammunition ran out quickly and when it finally depleted, it took mere seconds for the cultists to fall upon them like ants over a juicy piece of meat. The Imperials showed no hesitation and continued to reap a heavy toll on them even in close combat. Valia couldn't help but felt awed at the sight of Randy ripping the ribcage off an opponent using his bare hand, or Leitdorf decapitating eight foes with single swing of his sword, or Gutsman pulverizing any human foolish enough to be in front of him with powerful head-butts that would leave even an Ork Warboss reeling. However, in the end, their efforts were for naught. In the most desperate, most imperative moment, everyone was left with two choices: run for his life or stay and fight.

Without thinking, Valia chose the first. Randy, Leitdorf, Alastor, Mkeller and Gutsman all went for the latter. Discarding her oversized boots to make herself more fleeting, Valia used her small body to sneak across the foe, occasionally bumping into cultists who hardly noticed her presence but otherwise without much problem. As she looked back, she saw her comrades overwhelmed by the tide of twisted humanity who had given themselves wholly to Slaanesh. Even Gutsman, big and tough as he was, met his match when a massive brute heavily altered by defiled surgery grappled and pinned him down. The Guards were not slain on the spot. Instead, the enemy took them as prisoners. Given what kind of debased god they were devoted to, Valia knew that fate was a thousand times worse than death.

Valia would live on, but for how long? The city's parameter had been walled, inaccessible from outside and inescapable from within. The smell of sorcery and maleficarum was thick in the air, choking her throat like fishbone, yet wrongly refreshing somehow. The Chaos worshippers were obviously up to something that would tip the balance of this war and secure the planet for their Dark Prince. She didn't need to be an Inquisitor to know that.

"What do I do now?" Valia asked herself, wiping the tears from her eyes with a dirty sleeve. Pulling her head to her knees, she mumbled, "I…why am I so useless? Why…why can't I do something right for once? Randy, Leitdorf, Mkeller, Gutsman, Alastor, I am so sorry, I just…I just could not…"

"I once pity you," said Evalan, her voice like liquefied crystal. Valia looked up to see her friend, brown hair and blue eyes. She wasn't particularly beautiful, even amongst the Guards, but at least her head stayed where it should be this time. "But that is over. They are the ones who deserve sympathy. Your comrades. Without them, you would have died, and where they needed you most, you were wanting."

Sadness gave way to rage, and Valia shouted back madly, "You are dead! Why don't you just stop haunting and leave me alone, for Emperor's sake?" The more anger she poured into her words, the more desperate she became. She had no leg to stand on in this argument.

Evalan giggled. "I am dead, and I get to be with the Emperor. Tell me, what is the meaning of your life? What worth is it? Even if you survive this, how many more lives must you suck to preserve your own? Is this what the Emperor is looking for in his subject?"

"Shut up! Shut up!" Valia screamed. "If you want me to die, I can do that right now!" The girl pulled out a las pistol and pressed it against her head. At least that way she would die with some dignity, or she hoped so.

"How does dying here make you any better?" asked Evalan. "Isn't it selfish of you to die painlessly while your comrades suffer sadistic demise at the hand of the enemy? Only in death does duty end. What have you ever done in your life apart from putting others in harm's way to save your sorry ass to deserve such relief?"

Valia lowered her gun. She was defeated, broken, not by the legion of Chaos, but by the ethereal factor that was probably of her own imagination. It would be insane, if not for the fact it was so very real, at least to her. With a deep inhalation, she relented, "I suppose you are right. What must I do now? I can't really think of anything."

Evalan smiled. "Don't think, then. Follow your heart. It knows better than you think."

* * *

Valia awoke. From the warehouse's windows, she saw the sky had turned a dark shade of pink. In fact, everything turned pinkish when she looked at, from the roof of the building to her own skin. It was night, evidently, though whatever sorcery the Chaos followers were using was affecting the environment quite dramatically. The air smelled like perfume mixed with heroin.

There was little time left. Valia swore upon her soul she would not shirk this time. If she fell today, she died fighting in the name of the Emperor. There would be no more running away, no more hiding, no more being a damsel in distress. Destiny was hers to shape, whether death or eternal victory.

All will be decided. Soon.

Sighing, the girl thought about what to do next. After some twenty minutes or so, she gave up. She did not have a plan. Her head was as empty as an Ogryn's food tin. Even if the foul arcane didn't mess up with her mind, there was no new idea, no initiative, no fresh approach she could think of. She was a Guardswoman, her sole duty was to obey while others with more brain and years in academies would do all the thinking for her. Desperation soon turned to withdrawal, and Valia found herself diverting from the topic.

Her memory drifting to the past, she recalled the first time she celebrated her birthday when she was eight, the Ecclesiarches priest giving her a pair of sock for present. She wore it for four long years, every day until some boys cruelly stripped it from her. She remembered crying in the closet the whole day after that. And then Inquisitor Amelda Eisenhorn paid a visit. For someone who appeared so young, he had fought and bested enemies of the Imperium on countless occasions, from Ork Waaagh! to entire Tyranid Hive Fleet. And he was very good with kids, too. His background really inspired her, if not the second greatest motivation for her to join the Guards. Evalan was her first and best friend, well, before she used her as surrogate to save her skin from the Greenskins. When still alive, Evalan was somewhat a rebel amongst the ranks, cunning and sureptetious, always telling arduous jokes about the hard-line commissars behind their back. At one time, she even put on a show disguising as one of them, and had some guys on duty for spitting…

Wait-a-minute! Of course! Valia almost jumped up out of excitement. It may sound crazy, but she was running out of option, not to mention running out of time. Usakar Creed would approve this.

Going back to where the battle raged earlier, she found the streets surprising empty. All the cultists were gathering at the town square for something sinister, most likely the place where the big show was about to happen and the final stage of their plan would unfold. The carcasses stayed where they were, the followers of the Dark Gods lacking in discretion as always. It didn't take long for Valia to pick a costume out of so many different variations. Bullet holes and blood stain didn't matter, for no one would notice those. When she looked at the mirror, what she saw was a reflection of a hideous turkey painted yellow with satellite discs on its back. Absolutely fashionably heretical, but for the very least, the shoes fitted her little feet. Satisfied with what she got, Valia headed for the town square, praying the Emperor would be watching her.

As expected, the square was crowded. A big party was going on. The music was mind-numbingly loud. Thousands Chaos humans were there, dressed in all sorts of clothes and wearing all kinds of exotic jewelry. Some cloaked themselves in flayed skin of their foe, others the opposite and having their own skin flayed instead, exposing muscle fibers. To Valia's horror, a full squad of Chaos Space Marines including an Aspiring Champion with Power Fist from the Flawless Host had been deployed. Dealing with those guys would be a nightmare.

Valia saw the prisoners, some of them Imperial troops, many just civilians. They weren't chained or roped, but under bondage from some dark magic. All her friends were there: Randy, Leitdorf, Alastor, Mkeller and Gutsman. The Ogryn was too big for regular stuff and had to be pinned down with a piano, a convertible, corpse of a Chaos Spawn and a bookshelf filled with children stories.

"Faithful, it has been so long," a voice boomed atop the ear-bashing music. Every eye in the square turned towards a Chaos Sorcerer in full Power Armor standing at the middle of a circle made up of six lesser psykers. Six, Valia thought, the sacred number of Slaanesh. "I feel your pain, your anger. The Imperium see you as trash, the Khornate lunatics hunt you like animals. All of that is about to change. Today, I shall ascend to daemonhood. Together, we shall carve an empire of our own where food is endless, wine flows like blood in artery and people to have sex with is readily available. Rejoice, for soon, the Dark Prince will give me power beyond measurable and all the wonders of the five sense shall be yours."

The response was uproarious. Thousands fists pounded the sky in approval. Valia felt a rusted dagger had been stabbed into her soul. A Daemon Prince was about to be born, and she had but a couple of hours to stop it. Failure would mean her messy demise, and probably that of all other sane individual on this planet.

As she strode her way through the mass of twisted humanity, Valia found herself witness to the lowest depravity mankind was capable of. It appalled her what she saw were humans at all. Slaanesh did not claim these people if there had not been any part in them that hungered for luxuriance and thirsted for pleasure above what their own sanity.

The ritual had started. The Chaos Sorcerer began to chant corrupted litanies in Warp language while his disciples lent him their power as well as life force to complete the conjuration. Although Valia did not understand what he was blabbering, the words were music to her ears, seducing her mind both vehemently and subtly. The closer she got to the Sorcerer, the stronger the dark urge inside her became. Valia saw endless banquets laid in front of her. She saw clothes beautiful beyond her wildest dreams. Inquisitor Amelda Eisenhorn, dressed in pink, asked her if she could go on bed with him. Everything would be hers, everything and so many more. Because with Slaanesh, the possibilities are limitless. All she needed was to denounce the fallen Emperor and pledge her allegiance to the Dark Prince, and then….

Nooooo! Valia snapped herself out of it. The sorcery was powerful indeed, but she had somehow managed to resist it, either through adamantium will or stubborn imbecility. Anyhow, she had to do this fast, less her soul be lost forever.

But how? What could she, a puny Guardswoman with a las pistol, could hope to archive against a Chaos Sorcerer with the Mark of Slaanesh? If anything, her best chance was try anyway and maybe the witch might laugh himself to death in the process.

"I sense an unfaithful in our rank," the Sorcerer said. Valia felt blood drained from her face. He knew. He was going to kill her or worse. "Yes, my eye sees you now. Such disgrace. Don't you think you can get away."

The Sorcerer pointed at Valia's direction which immediately became the focal point of attention of all the cultists. Valia dropped to her knees and shut her eyes, hoping swift death which was bound not to happen. She had come all this way, all for naught. Perhaps she was simply just useless and there was not helping to that.

"Blood for the Blood God!" came a throaty shout. The warcry completely stunned Valia.

The man next to the Guardswoman discharged a plasma grenade at the Sorcerer, only to see it stopped halfway and ended up hovering in the air, mere inches away from the intended target. His assassination attempt had failed. The Slaaneshii cultists swarmed him from all sides. Then, with hands and teeth and cannibalistic fury, they ripped him to pieces and devoured his flesh in the most unsettling manner ever.

Valia felt relieved like never before. Her cover had not been blown yet. Better yet, she saw a golden opportunity. Drawing her las pistol, she fired at the plasma grenade still floating in midair close to the Sorcerer. The first shot missed and impacted on the psychic field harmlessly. The Sorcerer was alerted, but too late. The second shot slammed home and detonated the grenade. Like a star overloaded and exploded, superheated blue sphere expanded engulfed the Sorcerer who did not have a chance to scream.

Degenerated hands were tearing into her, but Valia thought it was worth it, her life for that of the whole planet. It was a worthy sacrifice. Then, as the smoke cleared, she saw she was wrong.

The Sorcerer had barely taken any scratch.

"She is mind," he said. Energy crackled around Valia, lifting her off her feet and putting her face to face with the enemy warlord. The Sorcerer was bareheaded, both his normal eyes sewn shut but a third appeared right on the forehead, surrounded by a circle with the eight-pointed star of Chaos. The eye was horrifying beyond description, terrible to look at but even more scary to look away from, for Emperor knew what it would do to her when she didn't. "You efforts are remarkable, that I admit. But ultimately, it was futile, just as everything that is the Imperium."

"Let go of me, you bastard!" Valia cried, kicking and thrashing the air around her in vain. Although she made an attempt to sound defiant, despair was creeping into her tone. Levitating before the super human, she looked like a pig ready for slaughter. "For the Emperor, why don't you just die?"

The mention of the Emperor elicited raucous laughter from the Sorcerer. "What has the Emperor done for you and I? How naïve you are, little girl. There is no Emperor is this world, just a filthy soulless corpse on the Throne of Lies. I now give you a choice to turn on a new leaf, to swear your devotion to our Prince, and I promise you won't regret it."

"The Emperor is restless," Valia retorted. "He shall protect us all. If you die, your soul will be torn apart by the daemons of the Warp."

"I see it differently," the Sorcerer chuckled, staring at her eerily.

His one eye locked on her two, and a tidal of despair flooded through Valia. The Guardswoman screamed in anguish. There was no point of denying it anymore, that much was obvious. His victory was certain, so was that of Chaos, and it would only be a matter of time before the forces of traitors, daemons and mutants swept from the Eye of Terror to expunge the Imperium from the stars as though it had never existed. The 14th Black Crusade was a failure, but that meant nothing. Chaos was eternal, and so the efforts of their servants would be rewarded eventually. Waxion was only the beginning - the beginning of the end. In front of Valia's very eyes, the combined armies of the Imperium and Necron shattered like glasses. Tomb Worlds were overwhelmed and eradicated. Guardsmen died in their millions, their festering cadavers becoming juicy food for the Spawns of the Warp. Even the mighty Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes would fall. Most of all, never before had Valia saw something so disgusting, so juvenile, so profane, its whole existence was a blasphemy against all things she loved in this universe: the sex scene between the Emperor and what looked to be Slaanesh. And the size of that XXX was just…outrageous.

"Valia, fight it!" the voice ranged inside her head. It didn't belong to Evalan. The tone was so alien, she doubted it was even human talking.

"I…I can't…," Valia stuttered as blood dwell within her mouth. "I am…not strong enough."

"Then forget about strength. Let your heart decide. The power of your heart is more potent than you think. You just need to believe so."

As the voice faded, Valia dreamed. So many misfortunes in her short life. So many people she despised. But now, some people she loved and admire. Randy, Leitdorf, Gutsman, Alastor and Mkeller, all those faces she would never forget. The Ruinous Power offered a multitude physical and psychological sensation, but not friendship. That was their weakness, and she would use it against them.

"Liar! Feth you!" Valia shouted. Las pistol still gripped in hand, she aimed it at the Sorcerer's baleful eye. The round had a one in ten chance of penetrating the psychic field. Even if it did, such puny beam would cause wound on one sixth occasion. And there was the blessing of Slaanesh to consider. Valia fired point blank, and the eye busted in blood.

Howling in pain, the Sorcerer staggered back, dropping Valia on her back. He had been defeated. How was that even possible? Entire cities had fallen when he spoke a single word. Monstrous Tyranids died by a few gestures of his hands. Haughty Khornate Champions boasted they would bath in his viscera, only to die without bleeding him a drop. But this girl, barely an adult, dared to wound him?

The Sorcerer took a pained step forward, fist clenched tightly. He might not have his psychic power to help, but killing this whelp would not be too difficult with his bare hands. He was Astartes, after all. Then, as though he had just woken up and found his bed floating in the middle of the ocean, he realized the ritual was incomplete. The sacrifice was not enough, and there was no chance to either continuing or dismissing it now.

Slaanesh was not sated. But She would find a way to be so. If the Champions could not feed her, She would feed on them.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" In a clasp of thunder, the Sorcerer was gone. To the dismay of all the cultists, all the Chaos Space Marines present, and the Sorcerer, too, if there was anything left of him in it, it was not what they had expected.

Rather than elevating to a Daemon Prince, the Sorcerer had devolved into a mindless Spawn!

The psychic backlash killed the lesser witches outright, but the aftershock effect was more than that. Those whose minds touched by the Warp were now in a position where their souls were pulled from their body, but by a force so weak it was only halfway. Many died anyway, others were terrified and fled. Cultists ran all over the place, seeking shelter that didn't exist or hiding from invisible menace. The Chaos Marines were less affected, yet not even they were able to push through the mass of fleeing humans.

Despite the agony, Valia could not help but grinned. The party was over.

Freed from their magical bondages, the captured Imperial Guardsmen ran amok. Chaos Space Marines held their ground, their desecrated bolters killing a few of the Guards and a bunch of their panicking followers. Disheartened by the loss of their leaders, they too were on the verge of breaking.

The sorcery that protected the city was now all but gone. The black sky tore itself open and a massive meteor impacted the earth, crushing a dozen unlucky cultists who were fleeing for their lives. A crimson Dreadnought bearing the insignia of the Blood Ravens emerged from the Drop Pod, opening fire with its Assault Cannon the moment it exited the ramp. The Emperor's Finest had joined the struggle at last.

Three Chaos Marines were gunned down instantly, their twitching bodies riddled with bullets. The Aspiring Champion, out of desperation, engaged the Dreadnought with his Power Fist and smashed aside its frontal hull plate. In response, the Dreadnought brought its own Power Fist to bear, seizing the Flawless Host Marine, swirling a couple of rounds before grounding it. The Aspiring Champion was reduced to bloodied mesh.

Valia saw all around her, the tide was turning. Victory was assured. The Dreadnought was only the tip of the Imeprial assault. Soon, thousand infantry would pour in. The Chaos force did not stand a chance now. Gritting her teeth tightly, she got herself up. The pain was still visible. Suddenly a massive iron clad hand grabbed her shoulder and threw her bodily to the ground. Valia felt the pressure applied on her chest as the Chaos Marine put his foot on her, squeezing as though she were a cockroach.

"You ruined it!" he spat. "Victory should have been ours, had not been for you. Now Slaanesh is not pleased. She will have bad things waiting for us. We might have lost, but at least I will have the pleasure of killing you myself."

Valia vomited blood and her organs were crush mercilessly. But she would smile at him. He was pathetic, just like her before. Had he not been a heretic, she would surely have pitied him.

At the edge of her vision, right before she passed out, Valia saw the shapes of the men of the Imperial Guards. Randy was the first. Then, it was Leitdorf. Then Alastor, Mkeller, Gutsman, and others who Valia didn't recognize. An Astartes was as tough as ten men, but there were more than thirty of them, Ogryn included.

With fists and clubs and righteous vengeance, they killed the Chaos Marine.

* * *

Valia opened her eyes. She was in bed, covered in a white blanket, in a hospital. A real hospital! Something was not right here, Imperial Guards normally went to filthy makeshift medical centers to have their wounds tended half the time and festering the other half. Valia was still confused when she saw Randy the Catachan sitting on a chair next to her. He looked much cleaner than she last saw him, but still retained the savage traits of a death world's fighter.

"Oh, you are awake at last," he said, pulling out from his pocket and gave her a half-eaten chocolate bar. "Here, to show my gratitude. It's not much, but…we devils aren't used to giving presents, so don't blame me. And don't expect to get fresh food from a Catachan."

"Thanks." Valia accepted it cheerfully. The sun of the window bathed her with brilliant light. Everything was OK now, the battle won and she being still alive. Except for the fact she would be shipped into another combat zone and repeat the whole experience all over again. Such was the way of the Guards. Only in death does duty ends.

But for now, there was a reason to celebrate, and she would not let it come to pass.

"It's not part of my regiment's tradition to sit here, in a hospital, waiting for someone to wake up," Randy continued. "But since I am not one of them anymore, I might as well get off the beaten track once in a while."

"What do you mean you are not one of them anymore?" Valia asked, baffled.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Leitdorf's superiors were so pleased with our performance that they are putting us in the same squad. Our profiles are being revamped, if you have someone in the old regiment that you like, it's time to say goodbye to them, course you're unlikely to see them again."

"Same squad?" Valia frowned. "Are we joining the Silver Swan?"

"No," Randy answered. "You, me, Mkeller, Alastor and the Ogryn will be assigned to a special strike force. They say we possess the skills for that. Leitdorf stays with his regiment, too bad. We will have better uniform, more food, access to more girls…I mean, goodies, a more competent commander, bigger sleeping places, a closer spot to campfire…"

"Who exactly is our commander anyway?" Valia interrupted.

As Randy was about to say something, a man dressed in black came into the room. He was young and handsome, black haired and with a beautiful tattoo on his left cheek. He wore a large coat embellished with trophies taken from Tyranids and a hat which bore the Rosette of the Inquisition. Valia's heart skipped a beat. It was no other than Inquisitor Amelda Eisenhorn himself.

"You are up, Miss Valia," he said courteously. "I have heard the reports. Your actions proved vital to this campaign. The planet Waxion and countless lives were saved because of your heroism. The Imperium owes you for this."

Valia blushed. Being commented by an Inquisitor was not something she had hoped, not for this lifetime. "Well, I was just…"

"Followed your heart?" a second man came in and interrupted her. His voice was as soft as pillow with an excellent vibrant effect. "And it worked, did it not? Love and friendship is the anathema of all things Chaos represents. If their power can be harnessed properly, our victory is certain."

Valia didn't recognize who that was, but definitely not a Mordian even though the man was dressed in garish Iron Guard officer uniform. He had long blond hair which didn't seem right in the Guards. Valia might have found him gorgeous if not for one disturbing feature that she could not simply ignore.

"Your…ears…," Valia stammered. "They are…"

"Pointy?" the man chuckled. "I get that a lot. And for some reason not many people would question commissar Dramak when he ran around in the corridor of Command Centre naked but for his undergarment. Humans are so…strange."

Valia gapped like a fish. She had been dreaming a lot lately, so she would not be surprised if this were on of them. Pinching her cheek several times, much to the confusion of everyone else, she realized she was not dreaming this time. It was all real. That means…

"I am known as Valentine Windsong. And you are under my command now."

Valia sighed deeply and forced a smile on her face.

She could not wait for her next mission.

* * *

**_Author's note:_ **_This is the end of this story. The epic finale is longer than the other two. There might be a sequel to this, who knows. Here are some fun facts:_

_Chaos Champions can receive blessings of their gods after slaying an enemy's character in combat, ranging from turning to a Daemon Prince to becoming a Spawn._

_Dreadnought's Power Fist strike before marine's Power Fist because the former is not unwieldy._

_You may already realize, some of the names are taken from Warhammer Fantasy, including Leitdorf and Gutsman._

_Amelda Eisenhorn has no relation with Gregor Eisenhorn except he adopted the name to honor the latter. He is actually an artificial human created to house the spirit of a dying hero. His quote can be found in Dire Strait, chapter 1._

_Valentine Windsong is a hybrid between human and Eldar, similar to Lofn and that Librarian guy. His quote can be found in The melancholy of Shizuka Miyamoto, chapter 5._


End file.
